


The Worst Case of Blueballs in the History of Witchery

by SummerAtLast



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alien Biology, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-20
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-18 02:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2331290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerAtLast/pseuds/SummerAtLast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does she have to do for ten minutes of privacy, sacrifice a goat?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Case of Blueballs in the History of Witchery

**Author's Note:**

> (No goats were harmed in the writing of this fic.)
> 
> Glowy alien biology inspired by Lucy, Chai, and Boa.

Lomadia dug the hoe into the rich soil, watching it part under the blade in even furrows. She was sweating, and her arms were sore. Magical crops they may be, but magic certainly didn’t mean effortless. Last row. She pressed the glowing seeds into the dark earth and covered them over. She’d have to remember to give this row a little extra care with her watering can, but the automated sprinklers could handle the rest.

Her back crunched and popped as she stood up straight, and she rubbed the back of her neck. Job well done. Finally. She tilted her face into the sunlight, listening to the rustle of the breeze, the squawking of the crows, and the rattle of her skeleton crops in the next row. Had to find a way to keep the crows off the damn things, their meaty leaves were starting to look a bit henpecked.

Lomadia sighed and picked up her hoe, trudging into the house. She scraped the mud off her boots on the edge of the stairs. She’d have to make a welcome mat. Add that to the list. Right now she needed to put in some more work on those damn dream potions, then summon another demon, they really were running low on demon heart. She stowed the hoe neatly with her gardening tools and consulted her clipboard, weary and yet brimming with restless energy.

She started with the potions of love, since they’d run out again. The golden carrot took a while to dissolve in the cauldron, and she stirred it carefully to keep it from sticking and burning. Her mind drifted. She could practically brew this potion in her sleep, and yet not a single sodding wisp of dream cotton to show for it, just that damn nightmare fluff. She sighed, switching hands and stirring counterclockwise. The brew was thick and silky with an appealing glow, and it took her a while to realize she was watching the smooth rhythmic strokes of her spoon in the cauldron with more than idle interest.

 _Oh_. Couldn’t be potion fumes, barely half the ingredients were in, but she definitely recognized the stir of interest in her stomach. It had been a while, hadn’t it? And she’d been wound up all day, her temper flaring like an unbanked fire - even shouted at a cat once for being underfoot, and Nilesy had been a bit quieter than usual as they worked on the fence together.

Maybe she needed to apologize for something. Put that on the damn to-do list as well, right after summoning another bloody demon for its heart. She rubbed the tight muscles of her neck, digging in with a groan. Maybe she should wind down first. It had been such a rotten week all round, full of hard and tedious work that never seemed worth mentioning once it was done, but had to be done all the same.

The potion burbled, and she jerked her attention back to it, carefully measuring out the bottled smoke into it. She really did need to get her head in the game, this sort of thing could go expensively and horrifyingly wrong if she didn’t pay attention. She could take care of herself once it was bottled.

The rest of the ingredients went in smoothly, and she maintained her focus well. Everything in its time. The potion rose to its last triumphant boil, and she moved it off the fire with a purple mitt, onto a trivet next to her neatly arranged line of empty bottles. For such a terrible and random vegetable soup, it smelled amazingly buttery and chocolatey.

She decanted the potion carefully, pouring a little of the thick liquid into each bottle and then sloshing it around to warm them up, watching the liquid slide and spread over the inside of the glass. Kept the glass from cracking in the heat - potion bottles were nowhere near as hardy as Nilesy’s force flasks, but then again they were a lot less fussy to make.

She poured the potion meticulously, careful not to get a drop on her. This was why she did the brewing, and not Nilesy; she’d seen the kitchen after he was done cooking. She moved the warm bottles to the shelf one by one, turning them so their labels faced the right way. Once they cooled and she scrubbed the cauldron, she could make a few more batches of sleeping potion. But that could wait.

She did a careful check of the house and grounds to make sure everything was in order, the horses were alive, nothing was on fire, and Nilesy wasn’t on fire. That was perhaps uncharitable, Nilesy was cheerfully fiddling with his force infuser. He seemed to have forgotten the shouting earlier.

“Heya, Lom. What’s the hardest substance you know?”

“Obsidian, I suppose. It’s a bugger to mine.”

“Hm, that’s what I thought, thanks.”

“Are you going to be busy up here long?” Lomadia thought she did a good job asking casually.

“Nah, I’ll be done in a bit, just upgrading my armor. Are we summoning that demon now?”

“Er, no. I mean, later. Tonight. Just got to finish up a few errands first. Could you pop down to the village and pick up some tongue of dog?”

That should take him long enough. She wasn’t sure how or why the villagers got hold of the stuff, but they haggled fiercely to keep it.

“No problem. How much?”

“Never can have enough dog tongue. Very useful.”

Nilesy eyed her carefully. “You’d better not summon that demon while I’m gone.”

“Nonsense, works much better with two. I’ll be making mutandis.” She was certain that Nilesy had no idea how much mutandis they had at the moment, so her alibi was solid.

She saw Nilesy off to the door, watching as he put the broom between his legs and rose smoothly into the air, really a far better takeoff than she had ever managed. He soared away towards the village, and she went down the stairs into the secret witchery room, heart beating faster in anticipation. If Nilesy came back while the door was still closed, she’d tell him it was for magic police reasons. If he asked.

She checked the room carefully for ravens before closing the door. It was always awkward when they watched. The room was uninhabited except for the person-shaped armor stand, which gave her a bad fright sometimes. She let out a deep breath and flicked the switch, watching the stone door slide into place.

The witch robes had come out hilariously small on her, but she hadn’t had the heart to tell Nilesy, and just breezed along as if all witch robes were simply drapey black cardigans. Came in handy now, though, since she didn’t have to haul up ten pounds of laundry to slip her hand into her trousers.

She sighed, settling back onto a chest, just softly squeezing between her legs for now. Couldn’t come at it too sudden, or it felt like a slap in the face. Had to warm up slowly and -

A dry sucking noise on the other side of the room. _Bloody_ enderman. She yelped and pulled her hand free, scrabbling for a sword or pickaxe or anything. She’d even accept a large rock to beat its bloody head in.

Heart pounding, she scanned the room. Nothing. Had it just been there the whole time and she only noticed when it teleported away? Couldn’t have. She wouldn’t have missed something like that. She scanned the chests, the rows of bottles, and - there. Something scrabbling inside the chest. Had the enderman taken out the stones underneath it?

She flicked the catch and pulled up the lid, fist raised.

Hoot stared at her.

“No, owl. No. Why.” Hands still shaking with adrenaline, she plucked the damn bird out of the chest.

“Scared the bloody daylights out of me. You have to learn to teleport better. Or not at all, that’s also an option.” She flicked the lever and the door slid open.

“There you are, Lom!”

“I - I was -”

“Can you help me with these emeralds?”

Nilesy, it turned out, had misplaced his emeralds, no doubt in one of his ruddy great chests of tat, and was now vaguely mushing emerald essence around on the crafting table. She shooed him outside to replant the essence crops he had pulled up, and sorted out the glittering mess on the table. Four emeralds, and some leftover dust that she tidied away before Nilesy got back, tracking mud into the house.

She handed them over in a neat little pouch. “Four emeralds, and they’re nice big ones, so make sure you get plenty of dog tongue for them. And don’t buy anything silly like bees.”

“I wouldn’t do something like that, Lomadia. Twice, anyway.” He grinned and left, and Lomadia watched him carefully to make sure he wasn’t turning back for anything else.

Time for a quick ritual with that sodding owl. It had made its escape while she was putting the emeralds together, but she could hear it hiding in the trees somewhere.

“You’re not fooling me, mate.”

She fished a bound waystone out of the chest next to her bed, and scribbled out a quick message on a scrap of paper: “I could use a hand here, friend.” She debated adding a winky face, but decided against it. Slipping the stone and paper into her pocket, she returned to the owl problem, narrowing it down to a hawthorn tree next to the pond. The bloody thing had teleported into the dense branches, and was upside down.

She sighed and got Firebolt 420. She mounted the broom, pulling it tight between her legs, shifting a little to get her balance - okay fine, she knew exactly why she was shifting around, it felt great. Nobody was around to watch her. Nobody _better_ be around to watch, she thought fiercely, _and that means you, Kirin_.

She bit her lip, squeezing her thighs as the broom rose into the air. Broomstick riding wasn’t one of her talents in the best of times, and if she wound up treed again, it would hardly be out of the ordinary.

She skimmed over the water and slowly circled the tree looking for the best angle. Hoot, for some unfathomable reason, hadn’t teleported out of this fix, and spun his head to watch her. She got the owl out with minimal ruffled feathers, and slightly less than minimal ruffled hair and clothes, spitting a leaf out as she spun back down to the ground with the bird tucked firmly under her arm.

“Got them on the first try, Lom!”

Lomadia shut her eyes and thought very uncharitable things as she dismounted the broom. When she opened them, Nilesy was beaming with satisfaction as he descended in a graceful spiral, waving a lumpy satchel.

“What did we need dog tongue for again?”

“Witch reasons,” said Lomadia tersely. “They’re very useful. We need lots.”

“What’s with Hoot?” Nilesy chuckled and scratched the top of the owl’s head. “Did we warp into a tree again, Mr. Hoot? Really, Lom, you should just let him get out on his own. They’re like kittens that way.”

Lomadia bared her teeth in what she was reasonably sure was a smile, and firmly deposited Hoot in the middle of the summoning circle.

“Er, Lomadia -”

“Just a quick ritual. Not demon summoning.” Her chalk shrieked against the ground as she laid out the symbols in the circle.

Nilesy’s brow scrunched in confusion. “Righto. I’ll just put these away, then.”

He walked into the house, and Lomadia dug in her pocket for the stone and the paper. She jabbed the message at the owl. “Take it.”

The owl meekly accepted the scrap of paper, and Lomadia tried to figure out how to give him the waystone. Hoot tilted his head. Nilesy strolled out to watch, hands in his pockets, as she tried to convince Hoot to eat the stone, or hatch it, or whatever the buggering thing needed to do to it. She finally threw the waystone to the ground and the owl vanished in a puff of smoke.

Xephos arrived barely thirty seconds after Hoot warped out of sight, stepping through a rift that appeared right next to her.

“Hello, friend.” He beamed down at her, ridiculously lanky as ever, and she pushed the brim of her witch hat back to look him in the face. His arms were loaded with all sorts of mechanical nonsense. Perhaps she should have put the winky face in after all. “Did you need a hand? Because if it’s the hoppers, I brought my tools.”

“I’d say this requires the other sort of hand, Xeph.” She gave him a meaningful look, lots of eyebrows, and hoped Xephos got the message before Nilesy did.

“ _Oh_.” Xephos looked pleased and surprised, his face lighting up. “I’ll need a place to put my tools, then.”

Nilesy coughed, declared a slightly too loud interest in hunting creepers, and flew off, skimming over the crops. Xephos raised a hand to wave goodbye, and then yelped as he lost his grip on the tools.

Carefully not laughing, Lomadia helped stack the tools back into his arms and led him into the house.

“Just dump them on Nilesy’s bed, it’s fine. Would you like some tea?”

Xephos hesitated. “Tea, or… the other sort of tea?”

Lomadia snickered, and Xephos blushed blue.

“Oh, I see, that wasn’t a. Er, no thanks. No tea.” He dropped all his bits and bobs on the bed with a sharp clatter.

“Right then,” said Lomadia with a predatory grin. “Formalities out of the way.”

She slipped a finger into Xephos’s belt and tugged.

Xephos chirped in surprise and stumbled forward a step into Lomadia, knocking her witch hat off.

He really was ridiculous, the length of him. Lomadia was by no means a small woman, built tall and broad, but Xephos still had to tuck his head down to fit his mouth against hers, and perhaps he had to bend his knees a bit too.

Lomadia circled his narrow waist with her hands, brushing her thumbs over his absurdly delicate hipbones as he wound his hands into her hair. His mouth was gentle, and he kissed her lightly, just dry soft brushes of his lips, and his hands tugged her hair just enough to send chills down her spine.

She broke away, breathing a little faster. “Now that’s a proper hello.”

His eyes dropped to her mouth, glowing brightly, and he leaned in again. She pushed her hands against his hips and he stopped, watching her face.

“Let’s do this proper, take it to a bed before either of us gets a sore neck.”

A bubble of startled laughter escaped Xephos. “That’s a bit forward. It _has_ been a while, hasn’t it.”

“You have no idea,” said Lomadia. She hastily stripped the ridiculous pirate coat from his shoulders, tossing it onto Nilesy’s bed, unbuckled his belt and threw it vaguely in the direction of Nilesy’s bed, and just kicked her hat out of the damn way.

She backed Xephos up to the bed and pushed him down, and climbed onto the bed on her hands and knees, straddling him. Xephos moved willingly under her guiding hands with an expression of awe and delight, and ran his hands up her thighs, settling them on her hips.

“W-what do you want? Because I - very- yes.”

Lomadia laughed, kneeling up to peel off her witch robes, then came down on Xephos, pressing him into the bed. She wriggled to avoid his sharp hips, really the man was bonier than most of the skeletons around here, and slipped a knee between his legs.

He made a choking noise and then threaded his hands back into her hair, pulling her face down for a kiss.

Lomadia almost lost herself in the slow, wet slide of his mouth, the shiver of her hair being pulled, the softness of his skin as she slipped a hand up under his shirt. She started to rock her hips into him gently, and he pushed back, finding a rhythm.

But she wasn’t distracted enough to miss Fishbone’s welcoming chirp, and she pushed herself off Xephos and was standing by Nilesy’s bed casually finger-combing her hair before the door even opened. It would have been a lot more convincing, of course, if Xephos hadn’t also bolted off the bed and into the damn oreberry bush that had reappeared next to it.

Nilesy paused in the doorway, wide-eyed. Fishbone wound around his legs, purring.

“I, uh. Lost Mr. Broomy. Perhaps this is a bad, uh.”

“Oh for god’s sake, Nilesy,” snapped Lomadia.

“N-no, it’s fine,” panted Xephos, staggering to his feet and plucking oreberry leaves off himself. He didn’t look that badly scratched, for all the yowling he had been doing. “Perfectly fine. Definitely. Go about your business.” He tugged his shirt down, straightened to his full height, and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Nilesy dragged his gaze away from Xephos and met Lomadia’s eyes with some difficulty.

“Right. Uh. I… I could borrow yours? Your broom. Or I could just work on… force flasks. Upstairs.” He blushed, looking at Fishbone instead.

He was rather damp, and Lomadia heard the distant rumble of thunder. She sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face.

“Upstairs is fine. We can make you a new broom tomorrow.”

Nilesy nodded and scooped up Fishbone, bolting up the stairs.

Xephos and Lomadia locked eyes and laughed, Xephos collapsing on the bed and Lomadia sitting beside him with her head in her hands. Xephos’s eyes were wet when he finally got his breath under control.

“Has this been happening all day?” His voice was high and squeaky, and he burst back into breathless laughter.

“Every. Buggering. Time,” said Lomadia under her breath.

“You should try it with Lalna underfoot. We had to send him to the bloody _moon_.”

Lomadia snort-laughed, then covered her mouth, and Xephos shut his eyes, making high, choked noises and gasping for breath in between. She scooted onto the bed and curled around Xephos’s back and they both shook with mostly silent laughter, listening to the footsteps upstairs and the rush of the wind. The storm would be here soon.

Lomadia ran a hand along Xephos’s shuddering ribs, nuzzling her face into his no longer carefully styled hair. As far as seductions go, it wasn’t the smoothest, since she was still giggling, but Xephos leaned back into her warmth and twined his legs with hers. She blew on his neck gently, and he shivered.

Upstairs, they heard the increasingly frantic creak and slam of chest lids. He was trying to be quiet, bless him, but it was a very small house, and Nilesy was very disorganized.

“He’s going to come down in three minutes, isn’t he,” whispered Xephos.

“Probably already fidgeting at the top of the stairs because he forgot something,” sighed Lomadia. “You wouldn’t believe where he puts his stuff. I found fish in the witchery chest once.”

Xephos snorted, then pushed his hips back into Lomadia’s. “It’s a very big world, and full of useful things. There is absolutely no need for him to be in this room specifically.”

Lomadia slid a hand between Xephos’s legs and Xephos squirmed. “What, you want him to go out the window? He doesn’t have a broom, and I don’t think my pumpkins would be improved by the experience.”

She sat up and Xephos turned on the bed, lips parted. Lomadia threw one leg over him, then the other, and crawled off the bed. Xephos squeaked in dismay.

“Nilesy, I’m going to show Xephos the brewery, don’t wait up.”

She heard a sigh of relief and Nilesy started clomping down the stairs. Xephos tried his hardest to not look like a wounded puppy as Lomadia bundled up his coat and pushed it into his arms.

“I - I thought?”

“Yes, come on. The brewery.”

She herded him out the door, and the wind was surprisingly cold without her witch robes.

She hauled up the trapdoor next to the pond as Xephos shivered and cuddled his jacket.

“Isn’t that an unsecured cave? I don’t want to trip over a creeper.”

“I wish,” said Lomadia. “Do you know how much sodding time I’ve had to spend looking for creeper hearts? The bloody things have just moved out. Won’t be any creepers here. Won’t be any beds either, but we can make do.”

Xephos looked at the ladder and started shuffling his coat under one arm, but it unrolled and he made a mess of it. She took his coat from him and tossed it down the trapdoor, climbing down. It wasn’t too far down, but she still did have time to enjoy the view as Xephos climbed down after her. Really, wearing that coat all the time was a crime.

“Can we bolt this?” said Xephos, pulling the trap shut behind him.

“Shouldn’t need to. Nothing down here he uses. Mind the oreberry bushes.”

Xephos gave them a dirty look and a wide berth, then stepped close to Lomadia. “So we’re alone, then.”

“I certainly hope so. Creepers are definitely not on the guest list.”

Xephos huffed out a breath of laughter and swayed into Lomadia, his hands drifting to her hips. She put her arms around him, quietly hoping that witch wouldn’t reappear at an inopportune moment. Lomadia was fairly certain she was still in the mines here somewhere.

The brewery was small, warm, and full of dizzying fumes, and she'd have to remember to offload a few bottles onto Xephos to share with Honeydew and Lalna, they really were running out of space to keep them.

She distantly noted the rain starting to patter on the trapdoor as she ran a hand up Xephos’s neck and into his hair, grabbing a handful and bringing him down for a kiss. He squeezed the softness of her hips and worked his hands under her shirt, stroking up and down her back. It was quieter down here, their breath coming faster in the flickering light of the force torches. The sound of wet mouths and the brush of skin on skin was loud in her ears, insulated from the usual chaos of the house. No cats, no groaning trees or force infusers or -  

Xephos shrieked and Lomadia pushed away, spinning on the intruder with murder in her heart.

“God _dammit_ , Hoot!”

Hoot settled on a barrel, preening and watching Lomadia with large expressionless eyes.

“Right, that’s it, come here, you cheeky bugger. You need to go sit outside.”

Xephos sagged against a wall, holding his chest. “I thought that was a bloody enderman,” he gasped.

Lomadia seized the bird, pinning his wings to his body as he struggled. The drumming of the rain was louder than her hammering heartbeat, but only just. She looked up the ladder, then turned and threw the bird deeper into the caves.

“And stay there, for fuck’s sake!”

“Won’t he get eaten?” said Xephos with a shaky voice. His glow was sickly weak, barely detectable by torchlight.

“I bloody hope so,” said Lomadia. “I’ll resummon him later if he doesn’t sodding teleport into bed by then.”

“No bed down here,” said Xephos, with a ghost of a laugh.

“Not a lot of room to spare,” said Lomadia, taking a shuddering breath and turning to focus on her distillery. “Really, barely enough room for the equipment, let alone all the barrels. This is a ridiculous amount of alcohol for two people.”

Xephos snickered, and picked up a bottle to fiddle with. “You’d be surprised at how much even one person can drink. Honeydew would absolutely wreck this place.” His shoulders were starting to come down from around his ears, and his color was improving.

“Have you tried the cider? Made from our apples.” She rummaged through a chest for some mugs, and thankfully found them instead of more of Nilesy’s tat. “Those hoppers of yours really have saved us a lot of bother collecting them. Actually started the brewery to try and find something to do with all those apples. Really, a ridiculous amount of apples.”

‘You should sell them,” Xephos said. “To Strife.”

They both laughed, and Xephos let himself be persuaded into a taste test. They agreed that the cider was lovely, but that the berry wine, though also lovely, really wasn’t worth the bother of collecting all those fiddly little berries. They sat together companiably on a chest, and Lomadia felt the cider working its way through her, warm and fizzy. She nudged a shoulder against Xephos.

“Want to take bets on the next visitor?”

He snorted into his mug and then looked up at her, face flushed blue and smile crooked. “That’s terrible, Lomadia. Your owl should. Should. Like cats do.” He waved a hand airily.

“Nope,” she said. “Mobs don’t care about him at all.”

Xephos look scandalized. “Bloody useless owl.”

“Cheers to that,” said Lomadia, clinking her mug against Xephos’s. It was nearly empty, and she drained it. She set it aside with precision, turning back to him and running her eyes over his body, the ridiculous length of his legs and delicacy of his wrists, elegant for once without his usual nervous energy. Xephos watched her over the rim of his mug with growing interest.

“Want to pick up where we left off?”

He dropped the mug in a hurry. Xephos’s mouth was warm and sweet, and Lomadia put a hand on his bicep, slowly stroking the sleeve up with her thumb. He shivered, and she kissed down his neck. Really, the boatneck shirt was a lovely choice, there was so much skin to explore with her mouth. One of her favorite places on a man, that tender area between neck and shoulder, and Xephos moaned as she bit it, leaving a delicate blue imprint of her teeth. She nibbled her way up to his ear and he shuddered again.

“Yes, lovely,” he breathed.

She lifted her mouth away. “Did you just call me lovely?”

“‘s lovely. P-please.”

“Come on, then.” She guided him down off the chest, between her thighs. He took a deep breath and pressed his face to her thigh, kissing her through the fabric. A bolt of alarm shot through her. Had she done anything terrible while wearing these trousers? Xephos felt her tense up and lifted his mouth from her, running his hands up her thighs, a deep smooth pressure with the heels of his hands. No, it had been Nilesy’s turn to muck out the stables today. She relaxed and he squeezed her thighs, running his hands over her from her hips to the backs of her knees. He knew where to press hard, and where she was so sensitive it was almost ticklish.

He pressed closer, nuzzling his way up her thigh and she sighed, shifting a bit closer to the edge of the chest and spreading her legs wider. Xephos’s breath was so warm through the fabric, and she made a small noise, shifting her hips. He flicked his eyes up to check her face, then blew gently between her legs. Heat prickled through her, and she felt a rush of wetness. She squeezed her eyes shut and stroked a hand through his hair and he put his mouth on her.

Xephos’s tongue was soft, just broad gentle licks through the cloth, and he pressed soft-lipped kisses against her as the blood rushed downwards. When it got to be too much and her hips were lifting and her hand was getting rather too firm on the back of his neck, she gasped, “Enough,” and he rocked back on his heels to give her room. They worked together to wrestle off her clothes, and his shirt too, and he put his mouth back, slow and sweet and sloppy. She petted his hair and the glowing freckles on his shoulders.

“You’re so sweet like this,” she said quietly, touching the side of his neck. “Such a good boy. A little harder, now.”

He shivered under her hand and moved to obey. He held her apart with his hands and kissed her there, tongue moving over her clit.

“That’s it, that’s lovely,” said Lomadia. “You’re doing.” She sucked in a breath. “So good.”

He breathed out hard, swaying on his knees, and moved faster, mouth slick against her, lips closing around her clit and ah, he knew her so well. She made a noise high in her throat. “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

It rolled through her like thunder, a deep rumble shaking her, and surprising her as it continued to echo long after she thought it would be over. She thrummed with warm satisfaction. This, this was what she wanted.

By the end of it she opened her eyes and saw Xephos watching her quietly with soft glowing eyes and a map of stars across his chest. She cupped his cheek in her hand and brought him up for a kiss. For once, she had to bend her neck down for him. Their lips barely moved against each other, but they stayed locked together as their breathing slowed. His hands held her hips gently and she felt a sudden tender fierceness, kissing him harder, and he let her in.

She licked his mouth and then drew back, wiggled onto the chest until her back was to the wall, and patted her thigh. Xephos nearly tripped over himself as he shot to his feet.

“Take your trousers off first,” she laughed.

He tossed them onto an oreberry bush without looking, and moved to straddle her lap, but she parted her legs and spun him around, tugging his hips until he was sitting between her legs, his back to her.

She planted kisses up his knobbly spine, smoothed her hands across the delicate swirls of glowing freckles on his back and shoulders, then pulled him against her. He made a quiet noise and leaned into the soft warmth of her breasts and stomach, resting his hands on her knees.

“Good boy,” she said into his ear. He nodded, eyes closed, and turned his head, offering his neck to her. It was slow and languid, the drift of her hands across his skin. His skin lit up where she touched it, in blue dots that flared and faded. She was gentle with him, though she knew she could get more of a glow if she pressed harder. His skin was so soft, and she lingered to pet his ribs and the inside of his arms. She kissed the curve of his neck, and he sucked in a breath as her hands crossed his stomach, tensing as they drifted down his thighs, and then back up.

He squeaked, then bit his lip, and she blew across the wetness on his neck.

“Do you want it?” she murmured into his ear. He couldn’t see the smile, but he could hear it in her voice.

“I - I do, I really. Please.”

She kissed his ear, then slid a hand between his legs. As sweet and pliant as Xephos was, his fronds seized her hand with desperation, tugging her towards his sheath. She laughed, pulling back just a little to feel them cling harder, then slid her hand against his sheath, rubbing. Xephos’s breath shook, but his hands stayed on her knees. Lomadia closed her eyes, but could still see his blue glow through her eyelids.

She worked her fingers into the warm wetness of his sheath, stroking the slick cilia as they pulled her fingers deeper. As she rocked her fingers slowly but firmly into him, his breath came ragged in his throat. She slid her other hand down to stroke the fronds wrapped around her hand and wrist. The leaves were nubbly to the touch, and flared with interest as her fingers passed over them, trying to stick to her and reel her in. She stroked a nail over a frond and it curled its leaves shut, then reached back for her, fluttering. She touched it again, and it stuck to her, shifting its leaves over her nail.

“Want to try something,” she whispered. It took him a while to process that, blinking muzzily, but just as she was about to repeat it, he nodded.

She kissed the back of his neck at the hairline and looked to the side, searching for the mug she’d put away earlier. No, it must have been knocked off the chest. She hadn’t heard it fall. But there was a bottle rack within reach. She leaned forwards a little to reach it, nudging against Xephos’s chest, and felt his head turn and back muscles tighten.

“You’re not - I don’t - under pressure?”

“Relax, Xeph. I know what I’m doing.”

He sighed, and some of the tension drained out of him. “You do.”

The bottle was dark and heavy with wine. She hadn’t bothered with a label; she knew everything in her brewery. Lomadia adjusted her grip, running a thumb over the smooth cool glass, and brought it between Xephos’s legs. She moved her hand to make room, pulling it out with a soft sucking sound as the cilia and fronds lost their grip. Xephos made a quiet sound as the glass touched him.

She just cupped it against him gently, keeping it upright and pressed to his skin, with the cork well out of reach of his fronds. The fronds flinched away from it, curling into loose knots, then cautiously extended to feel the glass. They slid across the surface, so smooth and hard and unlike skin, flickering their leaves open and shut. They couldn’t stick to it, and moved faster, curving around it and rubbing against its unyielding surface.

“How does it feel?”

“H-hard. Harder please.”

Lomadia brought it tighter between his legs, and he moved his hips into it. She adjusted the angle and rubbed it against his sheath. She wrapped an arm around his ribs, rubbing him slowly and then faster as he cried out, pressing back into Lomadia and bracing his legs against the floor to push his hips against the glass.

She rested her hand on his stomach to feel the tightening muscles, the gasps of breath.

The thunder was closer now, the rumbles tightening into drumbeats that rattled the shelves, and Xephos shuddered before each roll of thunder. Lomadia halfway expected the torches to flicker out, but that was fine, Xephos was more than bright enough to see by. Lomadia laid a kiss on one of the glowing ampullae on the back of his neck, and Xephos made a choking sound.

A whipcrack of lightning struck somewhere nearby, and Xephos jolted, curling forwards.

"Someone at the – door," gasped Xephos.

"No there isn't," said Lomadia firmly. "And if there is, they can sod right off."

There was a sound on the trapdoor above them. Lomadia refused to encourage it by showing it the slightest bit of attention.

"L-lomadia," whined Xephos between his teeth.

"I don't care if it's a bloody supercharged creeper," hissed Lomadia. "Nilesy can get it."

"Are you. Are."

"He can invite the damn thing in for tea if he wants."

Xephos panted, burying his face in her shoulder as they moved together.

“Anytime now, Xeph,” she said.

He whined, tossing his head. His breath came shorter, his hips stuttered, and Lomadia rubbed him harder. Xephos locked up, and Lomadia kept her hand moving, gentler with each stroke, until he melted into her with a sigh. She set the bottle aside and cupped a gentle palm over his fronds, protecting them from the open air. One idly uncoiled to test her skin, and then curled up again.

They curled together, falling into the same rhythm of breath, and Lomadia was almost certain he had gone to sleep. For someone with hardly anything to hang on his bones, he was oddly heavy when relaxed. She combed her fingers through his hair.

“Wouldn’t be hard to make another bed,” he murmured drowsily.

She hummed and tucked some hair behind his ear.

“I could bring some wool. We have loads.” His words came faster, warming to the subject, and he turned his head to eye the dimensions of the room.

“Legitimately acquired wool?” She smiled. “Or did it fall off the back of a spatial rift?”

Xephos spluttered, but wasn’t awake enough to put on a convincing show of earnestness. “Maybe. Y-yes. Well, it didn't _belong_ to anyone. It's my wool, I worked hard for it. I mean, I worked for it. I did at least one thing to get it.”

Lomadia watched him with amusement. “I’d rather do things the proper way, Xeph. There are sheep here, and we’ve certainly got enough wheat to feed them.”

He turned to search her face. “Alright. I could still help with the construction, though. I’d be glad to, really. This chest is _very_ hard.” He made a face.

“You’re just bony.” She scooped him up and moved her legs together, settling him across her lap. “Very bony.” She pinched him, and he squirmed.

“Should we set up a little bedroom here? Nice and private. Nilesy doesn’t make the brews, does he? The door could be there. Maybe with a lock? Could even be one of those secret rooms, like your witchery room.” His ampullae brightened with excitement, and he gestured extravagantly.

“Nah, Nilesy did all the redstone for the first one, and then the damn thing broke and locked me in. Didn't even have my pickaxe. Had to send Hoot to go fetch him to flip the switches from the outside.”

“Mm, terrible, terrible,” said Xephos, measuring the wall with his eyes. “Speaking of birds, feather pillows. I could get started on those, set up a little chicken spawner and some hoppers. Wouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Not on my land, you're not,” said Lomadia briskly. “I've already got enough trouble keeping up with the crops, the fish traps, and the damn apple trees. Speaking of which, take some cider, Honeydew could find a use for it.”

His eyes flicked to the bottle and he blushed.

“I meant the barrels, Xeph. Though you’ve got one of those smelteries, I’m sure there’s a casting mold for this sort of thing, if you’d like to get going on that.”

Xephos rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m going to send Lalna to _Mars_.”

Lomadia patted his back. “Better get started, then. My legs are starting to go numb.” She eased him off her lap and stood up, stretching.

“Right, yeah. I should check if they’ve managed to burn the place down yet.” He shuffled his feet. “This was - this was lovely, Lomadia. Really, a lovely visit. Thank you for inviting me. And I meant it, I’d love to help.”

Lomadia drew his head down for a kiss. “I know.”

Together, they searched the brewery for their clothes. They couldn’t find Xephos’s belt, and his trousers were rather worse for the wear when they finally got them untangled from the oreberry bush, but Xephos was glowing with good humor.

Lomadia packed him off through the rift with a couple barrels of cider and a kiss, then washed her hands and the bottle in the brewery sink. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the evening air smelled fresh and crisp, carrying the scent of rich earth and the herbs of her witches’ garden. The windows of the house glowed golden.

Right, about that demon summoning.


End file.
